27
Harrison
She wassilent during the drive back up to the house. I wondered if I had misread the lust in her eyes when, really, I had gone too far. Had somebody in the bar recognized me and said something to her that made her shut down? I had noticed a few not-so-subtle flashes and phones pointed in my direction.
Was my song a little on the nose? Maybe. Would I always love her? The lyrics were so perfect. I knew she would leave me; I knew I wasn’t the best for her. Maybe that was why I’d been practicing that song in secret for the last few months. I sensed from the beginning that I would never be able to hold on to Frankie the way you can’t hold on to the most perfect moment of a sunset.
The way Frankie was so tied into my every fiber of being made it impossible to imagine a time in my life when she wouldn’t always be my first thought. It was always Frankie. Before my eyes even opened in the morning, my mind focused on her, how she would be feeling, and what I could do to make her life easier. It never even felt like a chore. It felt like a gift I was given.
“Thank God, you decided to be an actor and not a rock star.” Frankie’s declaration was out of nowhere, but her tone was light.
I laughed as I turned into the gravel drive up to George’s. “How’s that?”
“You’d be too powerful.”
I laughed, feeling the tension ease from my body.
“I’m serious. You were seconds from getting panties thrown at you.”
“Well, you know how it is.”
“No, I don’t.” I felt her look at me.
“Did you like it?” I hadn’t actually gotten a reaction from her. Or if I had, my brain was afraid to misinterpret it.
“I loved it. I told you, I love your voice,” she said. “You’re incredible.”
“Thanks,” I said. For somebody so fleeting and rare with physical affection, she doled out compliments like it was nothing. Maybe it was nothing for her. I wanted to ask her to elaborate, to tell me in particular what she liked because I had put a lot of my soul into that song. I had hoped it would come across tongue in cheek, but as I performed for her, I felt the truth of the words.
But had she felt that?
“No. Don’t go to the main house. Go to the pool house,” she instructed.
I swallowed with difficulty. “Right,” I said, feeling a tightness of anticipation.
“I don’t want them to know we’re back yet. I don’t want this night to end,” she finished.
Don’t overthink it, Evans. Play it cool.
I put the car in park and turned to her, finding her watching me.
“Harrison. When we go in there, I’m going to ask things of you. I’m going to take you up on your offer. I’m going to show a side of myself that you’ve not seen. I want you. I want to touch you and be touched.”
I stared at her mouth. Then her neck. I started a list of all the places I would start with. There wasn’t enough time in all the infinite universe for the things I wanted to do to and with her.
“Is that okay?”
“Was I not talking? I thought I was talking,” I said.
She licked her lips with a smile. “I’m just warning you now. What happens in the pool house, stays in the pool house. That’s going to be a different Frankie than you’re used to.”
“Your tone says warning, yet all I hear is beautiful music.”
“Is your offer still open? If not, we can go back to the house—”
“No. Nope. Offer is wide open.” I let out a breath through pursed lips.
“What’s wrong?”
